


Stumbling Towards Perfection

by bestdamnavocadoes



Series: The Secret of Natasha Romanov's White Hair [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 03:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12548144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestdamnavocadoes/pseuds/bestdamnavocadoes
Summary: After the defeat of Thanos, Clint and Natasha have a heart-to-heart at a sketchy alien bar. Will she wind up telling Clint the truth, let alone Steve? Also, her super soldier abilities have some unexpected negative side effects.This is the third part and continuation of previous installments "Steve Rogers Keep His Socks on When He's Making Whoopie" and "Fever Dreams and Hallucinations." Part III is called: "The Secret of Natasha Romanov's White Hair."





	Stumbling Towards Perfection

**Author's Note:**

> Let's just skip Infinity War, shall we? Also, warning for off screen character death of Loki. He's supposedly been killed off in this universe... or has he?

Natasha supposes that they're a fitting duo when they stand next to each other, and she attempts to sneak yet another stealthy glance at Rogers and Barnes. There's something so right and complementary about the two of them: light next to darkness, blond and brunette. They're currently standing at least ten feet away from her and T'Challa, having some sort of hushed and intense conversation that is clearly for their ears only. She swears for the briefest instant that Barnes's eyes flicker towards her, but she quickly turns away and fixes her eyes on the observation window ahead of her. Right now he's the last person in the galaxy that she wants to see and be seen by.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" she asks T'Challa for what seems like the hundredth time that day.

T'Challa grimaces. He's taken off his mask but is wearing the rest of his Black Panther suit, and he looks just as exhausted and grimy as Natasha feels. She's also wearing her gear, although it feels a bit snugger these days. It's the first time she's worn her Avengers uniform since the baby was born, and she can't help but feel strangely self conscious. It doesn't seem like Rogers has noticed anything strange about her though, other than the obvious issue of her white hair. When she got the emergency alert from Clint about the terrifying creature known as Thanos and his quest for the Infinity Stones she rushed right into action like she never left in the first place, so she hasn't had time to dye it back to her regular red. She's spent the past several days anxious that someone is going to ask her about it, but thus far no one has.

She firmly resists the urge to look at Steve again.

"There does not seem to be another route available to us, Ms. Romanov," T'Challa says at last. "We cannot destroy the power of these Infinity Stones, so we must scatter them again. Even if we may wish it otherwise." His face is calm and impassive as they watch Tony, Bruce, and Thor work on removing the stones from the Infinity Gauntlet. Natasha shudders, remembering the awful power it had wielded when worn by Thanos. Her stomach churns and she raises a hand to cover her mouth, remembering the blood and the death and gore. So many dead civilians....

She wants to go home so badly. She wants to cradle Ian in her arms and reassure herself that he's truly safe. And she wants to leave this life of terror and killing far behind her and never return. She can't imagine what would have happened If Loki hadn't shown up at the last minute, distracting Thanos at the final critical moment..... She looks at Thor through the glass, with his newly shorn hair and red-rimmed eyes. He seems so different now, after the death of his brother and Jane leaving him. Like all the joy has gone from his eyes.

It's hard for Natasha to believe that a creature such as Loki could ever truly be gone, but it seems as if he truly has made the ultimate sacrifice. Who could have thought such a thing was possible?

A hand falls on her shoulder, and she almost jumps out of her skin. How out of practice is she that Clint of all people managed to sneak up on her? 

"Hey," he says softly, and she looks at him, wondering how he manages to do this. How does he leave his children behind and go off to war never knowing if he'll make it home? Doesn't it terrify him to imagine the possibility that someday he won't return, and what would happen to them if he didn't? She supposes Laura might manage on her own, but it definitely wouldn't be easy. She knows how much Laura loves Clint, and how much his children care about him. They would be devastated if their daddy never came home again. 

Clint gives her a gentle shake. "Hey," he repeats. "Is everything okay? You look..." he pauses, as if searching for the right words. "You look a little strange." 

 _Don't look at Rogers, Don't look at Rogers, Don't look at Rogers...._  

"I'm tired."

Clint's eyes bore into hers, their hazel depths reading her all too well. She can't stand the inquisitiveness of his gaze, she feels like he can see right through her. She turns back to the window, but she really isn't focusing on anything at all.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out with you and Bruce," Clint says, and she almost chokes on her laughter.  _He thinks this is about me and Bruce? Oh boy._

"This doesn't have anything to do with him," she replies, glad she can tell at least a tiny bit of the real truth to Clint. She honestly wishes she could tell Clint everything. It would be good to have him as a real friend again, the way they once were. Before the Civil War, before her pregnancy, and her disappearance to a remote monastery full of mystical monks. Still, he had been the only one she had ever contacted. Something inside of her had cautioned that she wasn't done with this life yet, no matter how much she wanted to be. 

She supposes what keeps her in this life is the same thing that keeps the others in it: Fear that if you leave, the wall won't stand. That your comrades will die, and the world along with them.

Maybe Vision had been right after all. " _Our very strength incites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict... breeds catastrophe. ... Our very strength invites challenge."_ She isn't sure where he and Wanda went to after the battle with Thanos, only that they had gone together, and had indicted that they were not coming back.

 _I hope they wind up being happy,_ Natasha thinks to herself.  _They both deserve it._

"Do you really think this will work?" Clint asks, echoing the question she had also asked mere moments before. Clearly she isn't the only one with apprehensions about this plan. 

She imagines that she hears the tiniest huff of a laugh from T'Challa, who turns from the window and walks off down the concourse, leaving the two of them alone. Well alone apart from Rogers and Barnes, who are apparently done with their conversation and are now simply observing the activities in the lab.

She grimaces. "It has to."

They fall silent, watching as Tony and Bruce manipulate the Infinity Gaunlet with a strange fusion of Asgardian magic and a large machine that Stark had built from the ground up. Thor mostly stands off to the side and adds bits of advice as they proceed. The current plan is to separate the Infinity Stones from the Gauntlet, and then send them off to the farthest reaches of the galaxy to be watched over by various warriors and sorcerers. Natasha had suggested Stephen Strange, and oddly it seemed as if Thor was already well-acquainted with him, although she wasn't sure how they knew each other. 

"You don't want to go out for a drink do you?"

Natasha laughs. "Are you serious?"

Clint raises an eyebrow at her and she sighs, giving in to the inevitable. "Why not?" she says, shrugging. "It's not like we have anything better to do."

\---

They leave Nova Corps HQ and find a nearby bar which pulses with raucous, ear-shattering music and multi-colored lights. It's filled to the brim with strange alien beings from across the galaxy bumping and grinding against each other, drinking from glowing glasses, laughing loudly, and (in some cases) punching and kicking at each other. After meeting Groot and Rocket, Natasha thought that she would never be shocked by an alien creature again, but this bar is proving her wrong. She tries to not stare as an alien that looks like an electric-blue Elephant, trunk and all, brushes past her and Clint's table, sending their drink glasses rattling. She blinks a few times, trying to settle the churning in her stomach. 

She feels uneasy and out of place, queasy with home sickness and missing Ian. She watches a nearby game play out with small dinosaur-rats that run around and around a table, shrieking at each other and fighting until only two are left alive. Sudden jets of fire burst out and consume one of them, leaving a final victor. The loser screams slowly as it dies, the smell of burning flesh and hair rising up in the bar. 

The group of aliens gathered around the table scream out either in dismay or happiness, and money changes hands as they reset the table. 

Natasha turns away from the violent and grotesque game. "What did you say these drinks were called again?" she asks Clint.

"Kree Sunrise," he says as he slugs back some of the liquid, which glows gold from within and changes shades of color from blue to green and back again.

"I will never stop being amazed at what you want to put in your body," she says, shaking her head. She takes a cautious sip of the liquid. It doesn't taste half bad, but she doesn't feel like she trusts a drink served by an bartender with six arms.

"The world is a strange place," Clint muses as several pink-skinned girls pass them, hair curled up on their head. They giggle as they pass, clearly looking him up and down. To her surprise, Clint smiles right back at them, which makes them burst into louder giggles and twirl their hair. 

"The galaxy is a strange place," Natasha can't help but correct him. 

"Indeed."   
  
They sit in silence, her sipping and Clint gulping. "I'm going to try another," he announces and saunters back over to the bar. He starts chatting with the bartender, using the universal translator chip they all have in their earbud communicators. She shakes her head as he quickly blends in with the locale. It's a special skill of his, she supposes. It's the talent of every good assassin and undercover agent to blend with your environment, but everyone goes about it differently. Clint for instance blends in by standing out and showing off. His over the top behavior oddly makes him seem utterly at home in any kind of environment. 

Natasha however has another tactic. She blends in by becoming invisible and aloof. People either don't see her or are intimidated by her, and either way you cut it, that means that they leave her alone. Although right now she doesn't feel very intimidating. In fact, she feels sweaty and gross in her uniform, and she wants to go back to Nova Corps HQ to change. She's still glad that Clint invited her here though. She did need some time away from everything, from her dark thoughts of what could have been if Thanos had succeeded and from her inappropriate thoughts about Steve Rogers and his new (and rather impressive) beard and black paramilitary uniform.

 _He's all grown up now,_ she muses.  _And looking better than ever._

She cuts her thoughts off there before they take a dangerous turn. She shouldn't think of Rogers, and his too-broad shoulders. She shouldn't fantasize about what it would be like to kiss him now and feel his beard against her lips or cheeks or even lower down on her body. She shouldn't fixated on how handsome he's become, how he's grown into man hood with a gusto, dropping all of his insecurities and inhibitions along the way. He knows who is now, that much is clear.

But these thoughts of hers are dangerous, because this new life of his doesn't include her, much less a child. He had made that much perfectly clear when he broke it off with her.

She sighs, and starts in on her drink with gusto. Maybe she should take this time to cut lose and get well and drunk before she heads back to her normal life. 

_Normal life? I left my baby at a mystical monastery with a guy named Wong. He's probably fallen through a dimensional portal by now or learned to cast curses in twelve different languages._

"So I can't pronounce the name of this drink, but the bartender claims it's awesome." Clint thunks two large glasses down, picks up his, and gestures at her. She groans, but picks up her glass all the same.

They clink their glasses together in a victory salute. When the two glasses meet a beautiful red flower blossoms and settles down to the bottom. Natasha is enraptured, staring into the glass and wondering how they produced that effect. She also wonders if the flower is edible or just a decoration. Clint however begins downing his immediately, tossing the glass back on the table with a resounding 'thunk.' He looks back towards the bar as if he's thinking of another round. 

Natasha raises an eyebrow at him. "Are you alright?" she asks. There's a challenge in her voice. 

Clint shrugs, turning back to her and looking down at his empty glass. He leans back in his chair, lounging as if he doesn't have a care in the world. Another person might have bought the act, but Natasha knows him too well. 

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asks.

"Because you're downing strange alien drinks like there's no tomorrow and grinning at pink women like you aren't a married man," she shoots back.

There's a long, long pause. "I might not be anymore," he admits, his shoulders slumping.

"What are you talking about? What's going on with Laura?"

"She can't take the stress anymore," Clint says softly. It's hard to hear him over the thumping, strange music in the bar. "Says this life is just too much for her." He looks up at her, his eyes serious. "She says she wants a divorce."

Natasha's heart lurches. She stands up, coming around the table to wrap her arms around him. Clint rests his head on her shoulder, his hair prickly on her neck. "I'm so sorry," she says, blinking back tears. 

"It happens."

She feels like she should say something else, but she isn't sure what she can possibly say to make this any better. So she just stays with him, hugging him tightly for a good long while before ordering another round. They don't talk much after that, but she brings her chair around and they sit close to each other while they consume bizarre alien drinks and watch the nightlife pass them by. Later on they stumble back to Nova Corps HQ building leaning on each other the whole way, and they fall asleep in the same bed.

\---

Natasha wakes up with a fuzzy head and a sick taste in her mouth. She stumbles to the bathroom in the tank top and biker shorts she wears under her gear at all times, and runs the water, leaning down to drink some and wash the sour taste out of her mouth. She splashes cool water on her face and catches a quick glimpse of her too-pale face and dark circles under her eyes before she turns away from the mirror. 

She almost runs into Clint who is standing in the doorway to the bathroom. "Sorry about all the drinking," he groans. He looks about as trashed as she feels. He's wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts with some sort of stupid cartoon character on them. 

"I understand," Natasha replies. "Are you sure..." she trails off, wanting to ask if he and Laura are truly over or if they'll be able to patch things up. Her stomach crawls and she feels truly rotten for not telling him the truth about her and Steve, and the baby -

Oh Ian! She realizes with a jolt that she forgot to call and check in last night like she normally does. She likes to talk Ian on Skype, even if Wong does seem to find it particularly annoying. And it's not really talking, mostly she just waves and Ian coo's while Wong glowers in the background.

She brushes past Clint, relieved to find her phone on the night stand where she left it. She puts in her code and finds a short text and video from Wong:

_Sorry we missed you this evening. I hope all is well, baby Ian says hello._

And there he is in all his glory: her chubby 8 month old baby wrapped up in a red monastery cloak vaguely like the one that Dr. Strange wears. His hair has started growing in as a wild, orange-ish color, and tufts of it are sticking up, clashing wildly with the red of the cloak. She has no idea where his hair color came from, if it's just a combination of her and Steve, or if it came from one of his Irish ancestors.

A short video plays, Ian bouncing around and making happy nonsense noises as he chews on a corner of the cape. Wong is holding him, and he leans down, forcing Ian to give a tiny wave. "Say hi to your mother, Ian, or she won't be happy!" Ian blinks his too-blue eyes, and reaches his chubby hands out. 

"Bah, bah, bah!" he chants happily. The video pauses, and Natasha's heart lurches. 

There's a tiny bit of text below the photo:

_He is as strong and healthy as ever._

Yes, she imagines he is. The super soldier abilities that had passed to her and nearly killed her in the process had also been inherited by their son. She shudders to think what the government would do with Steve if they ever found out that his "genetic material" could be used to make women into super soldiers and to sire super soldier children as well. 

_They would never let him go ever again._

She turns around to see Clint peering over her shoulder. He's gone utterly still, and she realizes with a start that he's obviously seen the video of the baby and probably heard Wong say the word 'mommy.'

"Soooo..." he says slowly, drawing the word out. "Is there uh...."

She stares at him, a million thoughts running through her mind. Should she lie? What if he tells Steve? And what if knowing about Ian put Clint in danger? Oh god, what if it put Ian in danger?

"Is there anything that you want to tell me?" Clint goes with at last.

She sighs, closing her eyes, and going into a tiny meditative trance just like Wong had taught her, along with a few other amazing skills that had saved her life. When she opens her eyes, the truth is clear. She can't lie to Clint, not to this man who saved her life once upon a time, gave her a new future as an Avenger and not just a killer. She owes him too much to do that to him, no matter the consequences. 

"I think you might want to sit down," she says, and then proceeds to tell him everything.

\---

_"Are you going to tell him?"_

The only question that Clint asked her after listening to the whole long story rings in her ears even now. Trust Clint to cut to the heart of the matter. She was surprised by his casual acceptance, but she hadn't had an answer for him. Eventually they had both agreed that they needed more sleep, and she had returned to her own room to take a well-deserved, long hot shower. 

_Say what you want about the Nova Corps and their bizarre alien technology, their showers are beyond belief._

The shower stall is enormous, with multiple shower heads that expel hot water and sweet smelling liquid soap. The pressure feels phenomenal on her poor abused muscles. Super soldier abilities or not, she feels like she could sleep for a week. She wonders if this is what Rogers feels like when he pushes himself to his limits. On the battlefield with Thanos, she had tried to hold back, not wanting the others to see just how "new and improved" she was. But there had been times, facing down his alien army, that she had been forced to use her full strength. She just hoped no one had noticed.

She can't help but marvel at how fast her bruises are fading and how a nasty cut on her back thigh has closed and puckered over already.

 _Are you going to tell him?"_ Clint's ghost-voice interrupts her thoughts yet again. 

She groans, putting her head in her hands and massaging her eyes. She knows it's only right to tell him, but how can she? She knows Rogers - he'll feel obligated  to her and the baby. And if he's involved, then that could draw attention to her and Ian. The wrong kind of attention. Her son could wind up in a lab his whole life, he could be abducted by Hydra, or murdered by their enemies....

No, better to never tell him. She just can't. She'll go home, she'll retire, and no one will ever know about her son.

Her mind made up, she steps out of the shower and towels off.

Clambering into bed, she dozes off into a deep sleep. 

 ---

In her dreams she sees a frozen white wasteland, and the faces of the eleven other girls who had been stranded with her. Their faces haunted her, their voices calling out to her from beyond the grave:

 _Killer,_ they hiss,  _you abandoned us. You chose your own life over ours. Killer, you're a killer._

Kill, kill, kill.... Cold, so cold, she shuddered, curled up and waited to freeze just like them.

A face came out of the darkness then, a man with shaggy dark hair, a stubbly chin, and shockingly blue eyes. A man with a metal arm. 

_Zimnij Soldát._

"Time to go home now solnyshko," he tells her, picking her up and carrying her out of the wasteland.

\---

"You cheated!" 

The Madame of the Red Room's voice rings out loud and high in Natasha's dream. 

The Winter Soldier's reply is calm and collected: "All of the other girls were dead, she was the final survivor."

"It is not right to interfere in the trial! They must survive on their own abilities, as well you know,  _Winter Soldier._ " The Madame spits his name out as if it's something distasteful and disgusting. 

"Did you wish for all your girls to be dead, Madame?"

"If they deserved it, yes."

"She is talented, Madame. We should not waste it."

"What's done is done," comes the terse reply. "But I caution you, soldier, to not let your emotions get the best of you a second time. Your handlers are watching you." 

"Thank you, Madame." A pause. "I will take it under advisement."

\---

Natasha wakes with a start, heart hammering in her chest. 

These cursed dreams, bringing back memories that might or might not be real....

She flings her covers off, wondering what other changes she might be cursed with as the super soldier abilities continue to take effect on her body. The only person who would know the truth of her missing memories is the one man she definitely doesn't want to talk to:

Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier.


End file.
